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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27487771">We Didn't Start the Fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxQuickfoot/pseuds/JinxQuickfoot'>JinxQuickfoot</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptoberverse [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bucky Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Burns, Day 14, Fire, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov Feels, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Steve Rogers, Rescue, Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov Friendship, Whump, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:02:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27487771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxQuickfoot/pseuds/JinxQuickfoot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It only took five words from Hill, “Avengers Tower is on fire” for Steve to gather everyone into the quinjet and head into the heart of New York.<br/>--------------------------------------<br/>When a fire destroys Avengers Tower, Natasha is caught in the blaze, but Steve isn't going to leave a teammate behind. Not again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter &amp; Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptoberverse [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileyjunior/gifts">smileyjunior</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Whumptober 2020 Day 14 </p><p>Prompt: Fire</p><p>Relationship: Steve &amp; Natasha</p><p>Exists in the same timeline as the rest of the Whumptoberverse.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Avengers Tower was on fire.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve had gotten the call mid-workout. He spent most of his time in the gym these days. With Tony handling most of the Accords work, and Pepper’s insistence that it was better that way, Steve split his time between missions, training for missions, or recovering from missions. Any spare time beyond that he dedicated to Bucky, even though nine times out of ten, Bucky sent him away. His reasoning was always the same, saying that while Shuri had removed every whiff of Hydra programming, the procedures hadn’t been painless or without cost, and so now he slept. A lot. And especially, it seemed, whenever Steve came to visit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve tried not to be bothered by it. He was trying to be patient, if that’s what Bucky needed. He was willing to give the space that was clearly being asked for.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That said, he was no longer the only person Bucky had to lean on. He knew the former soldier had been spending plenty of time with Natasha and Clint since his return, each of them having their own unique perspective to help with his situation. He saw a therapist three times a week, and had a weekly video call with Shuri. And Steve was glad, of course he was, that Bucky had a solid support network to help him through his transition.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even if he didn’t seem to be a part of it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So he worked and trained and recovered and then worked some more instead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The phone blasted at him as he slammed a fist into his latest punching bag. He and Tony barely spoke these days except when they had to, but that hadn’t kept Tony from keeping up with all of the Avengers’ needs in the Compound. Which, in Steve’s case, included a lot of punching bags. He’d been going through them faster than ever lately.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It only took five words from Hill, “Avengers Tower is on fire” for Steve to gather everyone into the quinjet and head into the heart of New York.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Tony and Rhodey beat them there, their suits outstripping the quinjet, and Steve didn’t think he’d seen many sights more horrible than their former home in flames. He could see the smoke long before they reached the building, blackening the picturesque blue skies. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t know how much time passed between Clint landing the quinjet and the local fire force declaring the building too unsafe to proceed, even for Steve or Peter with their enhanced healing, or Tony and Rhodey in their suits, which were becoming too heated from the continued exposure to protect their wearers. Ambulances were scattered down the block, treating the victims from within; the enhanced they had liberated from the Raft and promised a temporary home to, and the staff they had hired to work with them to find more permanent ones.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To no one’s surprise, being held on the Raft for months or even years under Ross didn’t do well for job hunting prospects. A handful of them had been tapped as Avengers potential, the most promising of which were a pair of twins who could control the skies and earth respectively. But, after Aceso, they had been proceeding with snail pace caution with who they approved access to the Compound. So the enhanced had remained in the Tower until better prospects could be arranged.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Now, looking at the mess of smoke and flame, Steve knew they had waited too long. They should have acted sooner. He should have done more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">Ripping his eyes away from the sight, he started doing a headcount instead. The Avengers were scattered, split between getting help to those who needed it and controlling the flames as best they could, preventing them from spreading. Steve had just located Sam by one of the ambulances when he noted who he was checking over.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In a moment, Steve was by Clint’s side, the archer’s eyes going wide as he gripped Steve’s arm with surprising strength, given that he was hacking and coughing, tears spilling down his cheeks as he fought for breath.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Smoke inhalation,” Sam explained, trying to force an oxygen mask over Clint’s nose and mouth. “Idiot didn’t clear the building when the fire chief told him to.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Clint’s fingers dug into Steve’s skin through his singed uniform, desperate green eyes finding Steve’s blue ones. Clint only looked that way for one person.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve’s head whipped around, searching as he activated his comm. “Widow. Check-in.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was no answer. Steve’s eyes followed Clint’s, staring at the blazing building.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Cap -” Sam warned, but Steve was already moving, securing a mask around his nose and mouth and ignoring the warning shouts of firefighters and team members alike as he plunged into the burning skyscraper.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The fire had started on the main floor above - the living quarters - meaning that Steve got up the first few flights of stairs before the heat and the smoke began to hit him. He barrelled on anyway, eyes watering as he burst through the last stairway where he could keep upright. He dropped to the floor instead, adopting a crawl as he pushed through the last floor where Natasha had checked in from.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The last time he had been in the Tower, he’d been fighting Ultron; now just one more link in a long chain of events that had brought about one disaster after another. None of them had returned after, except Tony, to organize the transfer of their belongings over to the Compound. They’d just left it behind. Moved on. Or said they had.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve had never been good at moving on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He could hear a voice over his comm that he thought was Sam, telling him that the building was unstable, and that the smoke would kill him before that even became a problem. Steve ignored him, pushing on. The serum would heal any damage the smoke did. He wasn’t leaving a teammate behind for dead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Not again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t know how long it was before he found her, unconscious, laying over a body of an enhanced boy that couldn’t have been older than fourteen. One look showed Steve that the kid was long gone. Natasha might have been too, lying still and lifeless, apparently having given her own protective measures over to the kid.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve ripped the mask off the teenager’s face and placed it back around Natasha’s before he threw her over his shoulder and started to haul himself back to the exit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve had never liked cold. Freezing winters in Brooklyn meant fresh bouts of pneumonia needing medicine that his mother, and later Bucky, could barely afford. The latter would work double shifts at the factory to pull together the funds to keep Steve from shivering to death in their tiny one-room apartment. Then there was the ice, and Steve had done all he could since to avoid being cold.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He took all that back the second the ceiling to the stairway collapsed in front of him. Cold over heat, any day, no competition.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Hacking and coughing, Sam’s voice yelling at him through the comms, he wrapped Natasha closer to him, seeing no way past but to soldier through. Protecting Natasha’s head, Steve ran at the pile of flaming debris, shoving past it into the stairway, and then he was falling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He thought he fell two stories, although it felt longer, angling himself so he fell on his side and taking the damage so Natasha wouldn’t. He tried to blink the smoke out of his eyes, the world turning blurry, and couldn’t. He tried to stand, and couldn’t. He tried to breathe…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No. They weren’t dying here.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve rolled over into a crouch, trying to look for a way forward that wasn’t pure flame. He saw none. He saw nothing but smoke, heard nothing but fire and the building slowly collapsing in on itself and…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And the whir of repulsers.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve was used to waking up in hospital beds.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Between his constant ailments as a child, to post-serum testings, to fighting non-stop through the 21st century, he had had his fair share of hospital visits. It didn’t mean he had gotten used to them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He woke up coughing, trying to pull away the oxygen mask strapped over his face, but a familiar hand grabbed his with a, “No, you don’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve blinked the water out of his eyes, wincing when he felt the raw scratch that was his throat. Everything else felt was tingling with the odd numbness he recognized as from his specialized painkillers. How bad -</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re ok,” the comforting voice said quickly. “Nothing that the serum won’t heal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve fought to speak, wincing at the pain of it. “Buck?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep if you need to. I’ll be here when you wake up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve sat up instead, Bucky reaching out to help him. “Nat?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Bucky’s slight hesitation was like a death sentence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No -”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She’s alive,” Bucky assured him, and Steve heaved in a gulp of air, relieved. “Just a bit…burned up. But they have all the doctors and everything she needs. Clint said that Stark got the best there is. She’s going to be ok.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Right. Because Bucky and Clint were spending a lot of time together. Which was…fine.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What were you thinking?” Bucky said, his voice low, as Steve’s eyes finally adjusted and his old friend came into focus.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve never quite got used to how Bucky looked these days. The health he had regained in Wakanda seemed to have drained out of him since his return to New York. He had gone back to being too pale, too thin, too…ghost-like. That’s what Natasha had called him. A ghost story. He’d never looked more like one.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nat was still in the building.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you could have gotten both of you killed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I couldn’t leave her.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can’t always do this!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I had to,Buck. You know that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Bucky sighed, leaning away, sensing a fight that wasn’t going to be won. “Yeah,” he muttered, so quietly that Steve wasn’t sure that he would have heard it without his enhanced hearing. “I do know that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve fought to regain the memories of the last moments in the fire. “I heard…before I…repulsers?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Stark and Rhodes got you out.”.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve frowned. “Their suits were too damaged from the fire to go back in.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “They made do.” Bucky sensed Steve’s question before he asked it. “Some burns from where the metal was compromised and heated, but they’re going to be ok.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve was racking up a debt to Colonel James Rhodes he was pretty sure he could never pay back at this point. And Tony had come for him. That was…that had happened.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Team?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “All ok.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That should have been a relief. Then Steve remembered the dead teenager Natasha had been shielding. “The Tower.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Some of Bucky’s edges smoothed out as he leaned forward to take Steve’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve felt the weight in the words. Knew what it had to mean, even as every ounce of his body rejected it. “We got them out. I saw, the ambulances, they were being treated - ”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry,” Bucky repeated. “But the staff, the enhanced, everyone from the Tower...The fire spread too quickly. The damage had been done. They’re dead, Steve. They’re all dead.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I usually don't do the whole 'Sorry this took so long!' spiel when it's been a while between chapters but I felt this story was worth telling. I was struggling with this chapter. A lot. Every time I sat down to write, nothing came out or what came out was terrible. Begin spiral of self-doubt and loathing that all writers know so well. The inner monologue begins. You're a terrible writer. You're lazy. You're never going to write anything good ever again.</p><p>Turns out I'd accidentally bought the drowsy version of a medication that should have been non-drowsy. I couldn’t write because I’d been accidentally drugging myself.</p><p>So lesson learned. And I share it with you now as a reminder to hey, be kind to yourselves. You deserve that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The serum kicked in soon after. It always did.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Within a couple of days, Steve was back on his feet. Tony and Rhodey were still nursing some nasty burns from where the heated suits had been left too long against their skin - an oversight (Tony’s words) that the genius was already looking at safeguarding against in the future. Some of the worst burns would scar, but it was nothing that would leave permanent damage.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Natasha was another story.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She had woken up a few times, but they were keeping her under mostly for pain management. Tony had summoned every doctor he could that specialized in burn treatment, including a rather large department just for cosmetic surgery. When Steve had been surprised at the size and cost of that one, Tony had just said, “She needs it” and left it at that.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Steve hadn’t gotten the chance to see her, with her being tended to day and night by doctors, but at last Cho announced that she was allowed visitors. No one questioned Clint going to see her first, followed by, to Steve’s slight surprise, Tony. The mechanic didn’t emerge from the room for over an hour </span>and left looking exhausted, but as if he and Natasha had come to some conclusion.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He looked so drained that he didn't even notice Steve until he had almost walked right past him, only acknowledging him at the last moment and freezing, unsure of what to do. Steve lowered the file he had been pursuing for the thousandth time, waiting for Tony to make the next move. He didn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Tony hadn’t looked well since Siberia - or maybe even before then. It wasn’t as though they had seen much of each other post-Ultron. Tony had tagged out, making room for the new recruits. He had provided the Compound and then stepped away from it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The rift between them had been growing long before Siberia, and neither of them had dealt with it like they should have, because neither of them wanted to acknowledge it. Because it was a failure on both of their parts, and because neither of them was ready to admit just how a great a loss one was to the other.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Now, with his arms covered in bandages and his gaunt face red as though sunburned, Tony had never looked farther from the man Steve had first clashed with in </span>the skies over New York.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How is she?” Steve asked, looking for neutral territory.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Recovering,” Tony replied. It wasn’t quite a snap, but the sharp tone boarded on one. “You?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve tried to hide the surprise at the question. Tony usually communicated the bare minimum, then left the room. But he was awkwardly hanging between Steve and the exit, looking like he was restraining himself from crossing his burned arms over his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fine,” Steve replied. “Really,” he added, at Tony’s disbelieving snort. “Serum took care of it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve leaned forward, trying to ignore that the move made Tony take a step back. “Listen, Tony, what you did -”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Tony cut him off. “Believe what you want, but I’m not quite at the stage of leaving team members to die in burning buildings.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I didn’t believe otherwise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Team member in trouble, you help. Or that’s how it’s meant to be, so I’m told.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve bit back on the rising frustration; the same frustration Tony <em>always </em>managed to bring out, no matter how neutrally Steve tried to approach a conversation. Then Tony would deliberately take his words out of context or make a joke where there should have been tact, and then they were at each other’s throats. Again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, if Tony wanted a fight, Steve wasn’t going to give him one. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That pissed Tony off, and Steve knew it would, and a small vindictive part of him that he had tried all of his life to ignore was glad.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you ok?” he asked, trying to smooth it over.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Always.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you…” Steve looked for more of that neutral territory. “Keeping busy?” He winced almost as he said it. Of course Tony was busy. Tony was <em>always</em> busy, even before shouldering Accords negotiations.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not keeping any files on Hydra experiments, if that’s what you’re asking.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve felt his hands wanting to curl into fists, and stopped them. It hadn’t been what he was asking, and he knew that Tony knew that, knew he was just seeking out the sore points to see if he could get a rise, and he wanted to rise to it anyway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That conversation had been miserable and short. Tony had been so wrung out after talking with Rhodey about keeping the files on the server that it had barely been more than “Don’t do that again,” and “Sure thing, Cap.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve knew the message hadn’t gotten through. He felt he should have pushed. He also knew, from far too much experience, that pushing Tony Stark on anything just led to an equal force pushing back, destroying everything around them. Steve wanted to say that he never wanted it to go there - and he certainly hadn’t wanted it to go there during the Accords - but he couldn’t hide from himself that he did. Not all the time. But sometimes. It was like someone was flipping a release switch on all the pent up energy no amount of punching bags could wring out of him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That wasn’t an option anymore. He was still team leader, even though he had never felt less like one, and Tony was on his team. Even if Tony didn’t see it that way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve wondered why the man didn’t just leave, if all he wanted to do was argue, but he didn’t move, fluttering nervously in the middle of the hallway.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It took Steve another few seconds to register that he was blocking the exit. Not entirely, but enough that Tony would have to pass very close by if he wanted to leave. And that was clearly too close for comfort in Tony’s book.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He thought back to crashing the shield into Tony’s chest in Siberia. Maybe he deserved that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve stood, trying to cover his tracks by asking, “Is Natasha up for more visitors, or should I come back tomorrow?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I would not dare to make a single decision on our scary spider’s behalf.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve tried to smile. It felt fake to both of them. “Sure. I’ll ask her myself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> “Enjoy.” </span>Tony waved him off, still feigning casual as he slipped through the space Steve had left open for him.</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve thought Natasha was asleep when he entered, most of her face and shoulders covered in bandages, but she peaked one eye open when he entered and offered him a small smile. “Ah. My hero.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve took the visitor’s seat beside the bed, easing it closer than where Tony had left it. “I think Tony and Rhodey get that title this time around.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She reached out to pat him with a mummy-like hand. If the movement hurt, she didn’t show it. “They were trying to get me out, but they didn’t know where I was, and their suits were too compromised for random searching. Then Sam told them you’d run in after me, and they tracked your comm. You’re the only reason they found me in time, Steve.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The words should have been a comfort. But they weren’t. Because of all the others they <em>didn’t </em>find in time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The file in his hands suddenly felt like it was made of granite.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is that the list?” Natasha asked, and Steve nodded. “Let me see.”<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nat -”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That wasn’t a request.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He handed it over to her, knowing she’d take it anyway. She flipped through the names and photos, face not changing even she got to the one she was looking for.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Birth Name: Bai Chiang. Age: Fourteen. Code name: Dolus. Abilities: Technology manipulation, telepathic potential.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They both stared at that last word for a long time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You were shielding him when I found you,” Steve said softly, because he knew Natasha of all people wouldn’t want him to skirt away from this. “You gave him your mask. You tried.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They were quiet for a long time. Natasha broke it first. “We have to do better than this, Steve.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He swallowed, nodding. “I know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He was <em>fourteen. </em>Ross was keeping kids on the Raft and we didn't even know. We didn’t even check.” Her eyes were still fixed on the file, starting to flip through it again, pausing on a set of twins. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em> Birth Names: Casper &amp; Erin Angelos. Age: Nineteen. Code Names: Castor &amp; Pollux. Abilities: Control of tectonic plates &amp; weather formation respectively. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nineteen,” Natasha whispered, flipping over to more dead barely older than that. “More red in the ledger.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You did everything that you -”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t give me that.” There was no heat in the words. There was nothing they could say they could make this better, and Natasha Romanoff had never been one for false platitudes. So instead she said, “We learn from this. And we do better.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The words were still ringing in his head as he left the hospital room, a new thought occurring to him. It was so obvious, in hindsight. Whether Natasha would agree was another matter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was so lost in thought that only the super-soldier reflexes prevented him from crashing right into Sharon Carter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">“Sorry,” he mumbled, before realizing just who he’d stumbled into. “Hi.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sharon flashed him a smile, hesitating with her hand on the hospital room door. “Hi back.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They both hesitated, unsure. Steve had seen Sharon a handful of times since the…since the UN incident, but it had always been business, and always coincidental. A mission they were both assigned to. An Accords debriefing. Running into each other in the New S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria. And if Steve had been eating there more regularly than he should have in case he'd run into her, no one need know but him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She’s asleep,” Steve ended up saying, indicating Natasha’s room. He tried to think of something else to say, and couldn't. Why his brain let him come up with battle strategies while being swarmed by an alien army but not words to say whenever there was a...an accomplished (did people still say that?) woman in the room, he'd never know.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sharon also paused, hiding the awkwardness better than he was. “Is she doing ok?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a genuine note of concern there; more so than worry for a colleague. Were they friends? Natasha had never mentioned it if they were. “She’s recovering. She’s strong.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And Stark’s throwing money at it left, right and center.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That too."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sharon looked like she was about to say something else, before she swerved into, “Do you want get a coffee?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ten minutes later, they’d selected a corner of the med bay waiting room, hands wrapped around cups of steaming coffee. Steve didn’t know why he had expected Sharon to take her coffee black. Instead she had loaded it up with cream and sugar in a way he found endearing for no other reason he could think of then - then </span>
  <span class="s1">what had happened after the UN.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>It was a kiss, idiot. You're allowed to think the word kiss.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This coffee is too good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve raised his eyebrows as Sharon took a sip. He had no idea if it was good or not - coffee had never appealed to him. He'd only taken the cup Sharon had offered him to be poline. “Tony designs everything in this place. And, you know, it's Tony, so what were you expecting?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hospital coffee is meant to be crap," Sharon explained. "It’s meant to be burnt and bitter and either too hot or too cold. When it’s good it just tastes…off.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know what you feel like," Steve replied. "Like you feel crappy so you want to coffee to be crappy.”<br/></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe. Or maybe it's just a known in the unknown. If that makes sense. I hate hospitals."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Me too."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They both paused after that, Steve casting around for other topics. He could almost picture Bucky’s small smirk as he stumbled around for conversation points while trying not to blush. He’d laugh when Steve told him later.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve caught himself. He wouldn't be telling Bucky about this later. He hadn't even seen him since he'd been cleared from the med bay. And even if he did, Bucky didn’t laugh anymore.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve had gone through several topics in his mind, including the<em> goddamn weather,</em> and settled on, “How’s work?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t miss the flash of disappointment that crossed Sharon’s face before she schooled herself. A colleague. He was treating her like a colleague. Which she was, and Steve had no evidence she wanted more. No substantial evidence, anyway. Just one kiss. Which he’d referred to as<em> late. </em>Not amazing or breathtaking or even nice. Late.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Things always felt too late these days.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Busy,” Sharon answered, and Steve nodded. Of course she was busy. She was an agent. She had her own life. “The Accords complicate everything. At least with Hydra there was less paperwork.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And there I thought there would never be anything good to say about Hydra.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, never say never.” She caught his eye on those last words. He looked away first, using the coffee as a distraction. She seemed to take it as a signal, ditching their fake casualness. “But not now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It's not that I don't want to." Steve gestured helplessly around the med bay. “There’s so much -”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Steve.” She waited for him to look back at her before she continued “There’s always going to be ‘so much’. You’re never going to be done. There’s always going to be one more fight after the last."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So it would seem."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And they’re going to keep coming, and they're going to get won or lost whether you’re in them or not.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I <em>am</em> in them,” Steve argued. “I wish I wasn’t, but -”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, you don’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ok,” he allowed. “Maybe not. But for so long I couldn’t be a part of the fight - the fight that other people were doing their part in.” <em>That Bucky was doing his part in.</em> “And now I can be. I don’t think I get to say no to that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sharon made a gesture like she had been about to take his hand, then thought better of it. “You <em>do</em> get say no. You know that, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve thought back to his teammate currently lying in a hospital bed, barely visible for bandages. Of Rhodey sitting him down to talk in Tony’s workshop after picking up the nuances of what that situation had needed, nuances that he’d missed, <em>again.</em> The fact that apparently Natasha and Sharon had become friends enough to warrant a hospital visit from one to the other - something else he’d completely been unaware of.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Steve realized that Sharon was waiting for an answer. “I’m thinking about some things,” he admitted. "Some...changes."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Have you tried talking about those things?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Steve recalled trying to hand the shield off to Rhodey. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>I have a life. It’s not a sacrifice I’m willing to make.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “A little.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well,” Sharon knocked back the rest of her coffee. “If you ever want a grab a crappy cup of a coffee instead of fighting, I know where to find one.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Worst coffee you’ve ever tasted, guaranteed. Might even come use that laundry machine afterward.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The offer was so open. So easy to take.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Steve thought back to Natasha. The Tower on fire. The dead enhanced they were meant to protect. He clutched the file a little tighter. </span>“Maybe once this all settles down.”</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sharon was a good enough agent to shield most of her disappointment, but Steve caught it anyway. “Sure. Once this all settles down.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They both knew it wasn’t going to settle down, and Steve regretted the words the moment she turned the corner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He pried open the file in his hand again. Surveyed the names of the dead. The names of the previously imprisoned, that he hadn't done enough to help.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Steve?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He glanced up to see that Sharon hadn’t left after all, hanging in the waiting room exit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just wanted to say…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em> I understand. We can make it work. The kiss wasn’t late.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I won’t wait around forever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then she was gone, leaving Steve with an empty coffee cup and a list of the dead.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A lot of talking lately. That's going to change next fic and we're going back into action mode.</p><p>The Whumptoberverse will continue in <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27540898/chapters/67355242">Episode 15 AKA Mind Control</a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come scream at me on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jinxquickfoot">Tumblr</a>, especially if you also write fanfic or do fanart! Share your work with me!</p><p>If you're liking the work I'm putting out on Ao3 and want to support me as a creator elsewhere, it would mean the world to me if you were to check out/subscribe to my writing podcast 'Kill the Cat', which is available <a href="https://linktr.ee/KilltheCatPodcast">here</a>. We currently have two Marvel-related episodes out: one on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ypaen3yM5Q&amp;t=26s&amp;ab_channel=KilltheCatPodcast">Infinity War</a> and one on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mx8prgGgccc&amp;t=26s&amp;ab_channel=KilltheCatPodcast">Jessica Jones</a>.</p><p>And hey. I'd run into a fire for you. Probably. I'd at least very seriously consider it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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